


here is how to handle being a feral prodigy

by nighimpossible



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:51:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighimpossible/pseuds/nighimpossible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is done with love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here is how to handle being a feral prodigy

Lydia is over Jackson.  Smart people don’t get hung up on one person forever: smart people learn from the past, move on, find better things to do with their lives than mope and sulk about missing persons and love lost.  She’s tried calling him, but of course the asshole won’t answer his phone.  There is a moment when he doesn’t answer her fiftieth message that Lydia is furious, absolutely furious with him and the words slip out: “I swear to God, you’d better be dead Jackson Whittemore, because when I get my hands on you, you’ll wish you never came back to Beacon Hills.”  Jackson never does come back to Beacon Hills.  And Lydia allows a brief moment of self-loathing before bundling it up in a tight knot and tossing it away.

Lydia is bored by Stiles.  She thinks that someday he will make a great compatriot:  a brother in arms, a confidante.  But Lydia is tired of his ploys, unamused by his grand romantic notion that someday, if he’s a good boy and does the right thing… well then, she’ll realize that he’s the one for her.  Unlikely.

Lydia is done with the twins, the alphas that had tried to manipulate her, seduce her.  Fuck no.  Lydia knows what it's like to be seduced by a wolf.  She never thought she’d ever have to thank Peter for anything, but she does, in a small way, thank him for the reality check.  Lydia doesn’t let herself fall in love anymore.  It’s too dangerous.  Instead, she plays the most dangerous game Beacon Hills has to offer.  Hey: it’s better than sleeping alone.

Lydia is confused by Allison, the girl who climbs in her window with a hunter’s agility and crawls into her bed with all the fragility of a hummingbird trapped between two giant paws.  They were best friends until they weren’t, until the secrets became too much and then, of course, Allison’s mom.  Lydia presses the pain away in Allison as best she can, but it’s hard to absorb pain when you’re full to the brim.

Lydia is charmed by Chris, but then, who isn’t charmed by an Argent when they want to be charming?  She flirts with him endlessly because she knows he’ll never act on whatever it is that lingers in the air between them.  She likes Allison’s jealousy more than anything, they way her eyes linger on Lydia’s fingers grazing Chris’s forearm.  ” _So nice to see you again, Mr. Argent,_ ” Allison will imitate nastily in bed, later on, head buried in the crook of Lydia’s neck, fingers exploring beneath her skirt more forcefully than usual.  ”Just how many Argents are you trying to fuck?”

Peter is done with Lydia.  His grand scheme succeeded, he has had his Lazarus moment, and the dead now walk amongst the living.  But Lydia isn’t done with Peter.  They’re done when Lydia says they’re done.  He owes her that much.  And even if he doesn’t, Lydia is done with people telling her what she can and can’t have after having so much of herself stripped away.  She’s the taker now.

“Mine,” she claims in his ear, running a nail down the back of his skull.  He shifts beneath her and smiles.

“Of course,” Peter murmurs, voice full of snark and  _you poor, lost girl_.  Lydia tugs her tunic over her head and smiles.  She’s not so much lost as wandering.  And she’ll take her sweet time getting back to the start.

**Author's Note:**

> For Sam (alphaesque). Title from David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest.


End file.
